The Diary of Edmund Pevensie
by AssassinOfRome
Summary: Hello, I'm Ed and this is my diary. Ed Pevensie is NOT from Narnia in this, he is just an OC. And this is his tale. Rated T for mature themes. Songfic to Train's 'Drops of Jupiter.' For Harry Potter Reloaded.
1. Chapter 1

_Now that she's back in the atmosphere  
>With drops of Jupiter in her hair.<br>She acts like summer and walks like rain  
>Reminds me that there's a time to change.<br>Since the return from her stay on the moon,  
>She listens like spring and she talks like June.<em>

_But tell me, did you sail across the sun?  
>Did you make it to the Milky Way,<br>To see the lights all faded,  
>And that heaven is overrated?<em>

_Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star?  
>One without a permanent scar?<br>And did you miss me  
>While you were looking for yourself out there?<em>

Dear Diary,

It's been a while since I wrote here. Looking back, the last entry was about two weeks ago. I apologise thoroughly for this but now I need you more than ever. If I don't tell someone how I feel, I might just explode with emotion. I can't keep this all bottled up forever. Someone might notice.

As you can tell, I'm in one of my blacker moods. I don't understand it. I've read every book and tried every potion under the sun but nothing seems to help. Nothing ever changes. The chasm of crushing lonlieness just grows every day.

Santana's not helping either. She's been so happy since she returned from the Quidditch World Cup, even though it ended in disaster. I don't want to ruin her fun with my misery but she's making me feel endlessly worthless. Every time I try to tell her my feelings, she just pushes me aside and keeps talking about Quidditch. My girlfriend won't even listen to me any more. I guess that proves how worthless I really am.

I'm glad that Santana got to go, don't get me wrong. This is one of the best memories she's ever had. I just wish she'd move on. It's over now. She's been talking about it for months. And the Triwizard tornament is getting ever closer. Madame Pomfrey's warning me about all the healing spells and incantations I'll have to learn and the most simple one is completely out of my reach. Even hours of practising doesn't seem to help, especially when they cut into my sleeping hours, which are few and far between anyway. I fell asleep in Transfiguartion yesterday and almost got a detention with McGonnagal. I was only saved because Neville managed to blow up his pin cushion. Thank God.

I think Santana met a boy when she went to The World Cup. If she's not talking about brooms or players or the 'best snitch catch in a century', she mentions a person named Jeffery that was in the tent next to her. When I asked her about Jeffery, she said they were just friends. And then they became penpals. Who signed their letters with kisses. Santana hasn't kissed me in a month. Not even a peck on the cheek. She didn't seem to miss me during the holidays, but I ache with longing every time she leaves me. Diary, I think I'm losing her. What do I do? I feel so hopeless. I need a friend but you're the best I can get.

I've got to go now. I can hear someone coming up the stairs and no one should see me like this.

Yours always,

Edmund. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Now that she's back from that soul vacation,  
>Tracing her way through the constellation.<br>She checks out Mozart while she does Tae-Bo,  
>Reminds me that there's room to grow.<em>

_Now that she's back in the atmosphere  
>I'm afraid that she might think of me as<br>Plain ol' Jane told a story about a man  
>Who was too afraid to fly so he never did land<em>

_But tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?  
>Did you finally get the chance,<br>To dance along the light of day,  
>And head back to the Milky Way?<em>

_And tell me, did Venus blow your mind?  
>Was it everything you wanted to find?<br>And did you miss me,  
>While you were looking for yourself out there?<em>

Dear Diary,

My life seems to be spiralling downwards into a pit of despair. No-one seems to care about how I feel anymore. Even Madame Pomfrey can't find the time to ask me if I'm OK. I guess I would just lie anyway. If no-one cares, what's the point of telling the truth?

I can't sleep at night anymore. I'm writing this at three in the morning in the common room. It's all dark here now and I'm scared to turn on a lamp because someone might find me. They would ask awkward questions and I don't want that at all. Sometimes I fall asleep in class. Someone, usually Hermione wakes me up. It's lucky I don't talk in my sleep, like Peter used to claim. Everything is exhausting and I can't keep up anymore.

Santana is still blabbering on about Quidditch every second I see her. She's got tickets to see the Tutshill Torandos with Cho Chang and was bitterly disappointed when Dumbledore announced the Inter House Quidditch Tornament would be cancelled for the TriWizard Tornament. She really should have guessed, like I did months ago.

Today, Santana did something really strange. She made me ride her Shooting Star broomstick even though she knows I'm petrified of heights and can't even sit straight on a broom. When I objected, she said I was a scaredy cat and forced me on behind her. Then she began to fly. It was terrible. I felt dizzy and sick and I almost fell off when she did a loop-de-loop.

That's not even the worst part. After I stumbled off the broom and almost vommited on a bush, Santana started yelling at me. She said I was plain and boring with no ambitition. So I fought back with my own artillery. I said stupid things like 'You don't care about me anymore' and 'You'd rather play Quidditch then kiss me'. The following dialouge went a bit like this.

Santana: I thought you were happy for me! I thought you were glad that I could achieve my dream!

Me: I am! I just wish you would... ask me if I'm OK sometimes.

S: Well, are you OK?

M: Yes but-

S: See! You're just making a mountain out of a molehill. Jeffery wouldn't do this.

M: It's always Jeffery this, Jeffery that! If you love Jeffery so much, why don't you just marry him?

S: Maybe I will!

M: Maybe you should!

S: Fine!

M: Fine!

She stormed off after that and I haven't spoken to her since. I watch her at the feast like I used to when we first met but now she doesn't look back. She doesn't care about me anymore. We're over.

So I'm sat here, heart broken, unable to sleep with no hope, no desire, no love. And I'm hungry. But I'll have to wait for food. I've got studying to do.

Yours always,

Edmund. _  
><em> 


	3. Chapter 3

_Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken  
>Your best friend always sticking up for you<br>Even when I know you're wrong?_

Can you imagine no first dance, freeze-dried romance  
>Five-hour phone conversation<br>The best soy latte that you ever had, and me?

But tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?  
>Did you finally get the chance<br>To dance along the light of day  
>And head back toward the Milky Way?<p>

_But tell me, did you sail across the sun?  
>Did you make it to the Milky Way<br>To see the lights all faded  
>And that heaven is overrated?<em>

And tell me, did you fall for a shooting star?  
>One without a permanent scar<br>And then you missed me  
>While you were looking for yourself?<p>

And did you finally get the chance  
>To dance along the light of day?<br>And did you fall for a shooting star?  
>Fall for a shooting star?<br>And now you're lonely looking for yourself out there

Dear Diary,

I can't do it anymore. I know that millions of teenagers all over the world have the same problems as I do and I know I sound so petty. But I can't bear existance anymore.

Someone's been spreading rumours about me through the school. People know about my asthma and make me run. They tell me I'm late for my next class and force me to run. When I arrive, breathless, I tend to discover I'm ten minutes early and have just made a massive fool out of myself. Other people think it's funnier to levitate me and hang me from a chandiler before walking away as I beg for mercy. If Hermione is in the corridor, she always lets me down, scolding the bullies. It feels good when she defends me but her appearances are few and far between. She's much too busy training Harry Potter to help me down from hooks. Usually I'm left hanging there until the collar on my robe rips and I fall on the floor. This is the point when I end up being late for class. My detentions are mounting up and I barely have time to even glance at homework before I'm pushed to some other picky teacher. And the bullying gets worse and worse. Since yesterday, it has become common knowledge amongst all students (minus Hufflepuffs, who really don't care) that I'm now classified as overweight.

I better explain this one otherwise it won't make much sense. Since I last wrote in this diary, I've put on half a stone, making me overweight for my height. It's not that noticeable. At least I don't think it is... In my uniform, I feel normal but my freetime clothes feel a bit tight on my hips and stomach. On close examination, my cheeks are a bit chubbier and my pair of jeans don't fit at all anymore. Being overweight is horrible. The jeers and taunts from skinny Slytherins make me feel like a huge balloon. I feel ill all the time. Sometimes, my stomach cramps and aches for hours and other times, I just want to throw up all over everything. But for some reason, I can't stop eating. No matter what I do, I'm always always hungry. Maybe I should stop going to the Great Hall at mealtimes. Watching tables of people glaring at me whilst I eat is not helpful.

The Yule Ball's coming up but I don't want to go. I've got no date since Santana left me and I don't want people noticing how fat I am. Good thing there's a Hogsmede trip soon. People are too busy buying presents for their loved ones to watch me drink cup after cup of over-sweetened coffee.

Santana's got herself a date to the Yule Ball. I don't know his name but she seems to be really sweet with him. 'Good for her' I tell the taunters that smear it in my face. But I can't help wishing that it was me.

I've got to go. Class is starting and I think I might puke.

Yours always,

Edmund.


End file.
